Strawberries
by Artemidora
Summary: Kaylee finds an anonymous gift outside the engine room. One-sided River/Kaylee, with mentions of Kaylee/Simon. Rating is conservative.


It was peaceful.

Kaylee allowed herself to wake slowly, pretending it were late-morning sunshine warming her face, not the engine. Pretending she were nestled in a lover's embrace instead of wedged in the engine room with her wrenches. She relished the dream for a few seconds, then blinked, inhaling oil-stained air instead of clean skin. The engine's murmer was steady and calm. Reminding her. All was well now, but she had a job to do.

Still, she was happy.

She yawned, stretching, letting her forearm push past the tools and last night's clothes. Another night on the engine room floor. Another morning onboard.

Kaylee thought of Simon, pictured his face. It would be nice, wouldn't it, to have him for a lover. Any lover, really, would be nice, but Simon was convenient. He was sweet and kind and still just a bit mysterious. He had that way about him, in his eyes, that faraway look that Kaylee took as a challenge. She wanted to be the one to bring him back.

She wanted his eyes focused on her, his mind clear. Or perhaps not so clear, depending on their respective states of undress. Kaylee grinned. The idea of the doctor's hands caressing her breasts didn't exactly make her shiver, but she couldn't deny her need. And he was quite the attractive fellow; his nervous air only augmented his charm. She would enjoy him, that much she knew.

Drawing her pants about her knees and up into position, she crawled out from her makeshift bed and straightened her sleep-wrinkled shirt. She'd have to change her clothes.

First, though, she was hungry. Resolving to stop in the kitchen instead of going straight to her bunk, she plucked up her energy and exited the engine room. She shivered slightly, in passing, as her skin picked up the ten-degree drop from the heat of the engine.

Immediately, she was given pause. A small box, wrapped in creamy paper with a matching ribbon, sat waiting for her outside the threshold.

A present. Shiny.

She picked it up to examine the unexpected parcel. Mal or Zoe would have been more careful, but truthfully, Kaylee was excited to have received an anonymous gift. She tore into it, finding a small wooden box under the ivory ribbon and wrappings. As she carefully lifted the lid, her eyes widened with glee.

Kaylee wasted no time. She picked up a succulent red morsel and bit into its sweet flesh. It was near-orgasmic. Kaylee's eyes fluttered shut of their own accord as the explosion rippled inside her mouth and beyond. The strawberry was perfectly ripe, tart and tangy and deeply sweet. It was soft and juicy and not cold. Even the outer sheen was completely free of blemishes or variations in color. Its flawlessness drew her in, and she could see nothing else.

And there were five more in the box, all equally arousing.

Eyes closed, she concentrated on savoring that first strawberry as long as possible, rolling it around in her mouth and letting the juices drip all over her tongue and into her gums. The sensation of taste enveloped her, washing over the back of her tongue and soft palate as it faded down her throat. Slowly, she opened her eyes and glanced down at the wondrous wooden box. She decided to save the other strawberries, at least until the afternoon. In something similar to a post-coital haze, she padded into the kitchen, burying the box in the back of a cabinet so that Jayne wouldn't eat her precious jewels. As she passed the table, she dreamily nodded greeting to River, playing with her dress, who seemed the only one up at this quiet hour.

As Kaylee made her way to her bunk, she wondered who would be kind enough to save up cash just to buy strawberries for her. First came Book and his thoughtfulness. He had always been so intuitive about her, or perhaps he had just been lucky the first time. Then she thought about Simon, with those infuriatingly distant eyes and rosy lips. Simon, on whom she could pounce any day now. Simon, who was so shy that maybe an anonymous gift would have been just right.

* * *

Getting up from the table, River removed a cheap cream-colored ribbon from her hair. She stole back the wrapping paper that Kaylee had littered in the hallway, bound to use it again for something. Her mind replayed Kaylee's fingers tearing through the paper, but relocated them to River's own skin. River sighed. Even the mental image was intoxicating.

Slowly, with a lingering look toward the crew's bunks, she skulked down the stairs, through the cargo bay, and into her room. Her mouth smiled, but her eyes were wet.

With the door securely shut, River slid to the floor. She cradled the ribbon in her hands, feeling the engine's hard heat, tasting the succulent flesh of a sweet-morseled lady.


End file.
